Inside the Black Ancestral Home.
After hearing Lucien's words, the portraits fell briefly silent, then began murmuring among themselves again.
The Black family was one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain's wizarding world. Those whose portraits hung in this house had all been full members of the family, knowledgeable and worldly thanks to their upbringing. Naturally, they understood what Lucien meant.
Seers, prophets, diviners...
"This boy is a seer?"
"Sirius Black really is innocent?"
"Guilty or not, it doesn't matter. I care about only one thing—why does the Black family have just one heir left?"
"Forget making the family prosper. How could they fail even to produce descendants and keep the family going? Each generation is worse than the last!"
"Hey, Sirius Black, how old are you now? You still don't have children? If nothing else, what about a bastard?"
"..."
The portraits' voices rose and fell, some skeptical, some indifferent, some dissatisfied.
Only Phineas's portrait remained silent. He took no part in the discussion, merely staring at Lucien.
His feelings were conflicted.
Unlike the other Black family portraits, Phineas, a former Hogwarts Headmaster, had been serving the current headmaster in the Headmaster's Office all this time. He knew Lucien better.
Intelligent, eager to learn, exceptionally gifted, and accomplished in almost every branch of magic—a typical Ravenclaw...
He had seen Lucien in the Headmaster's Office countless times. Whenever the boy appeared in Dumbledore's office, he carried an innate composure. Even Fawkes willingly perched on his shoulder.
On the one hand, precisely because he knew how clever Lucien was, Phineas could not help wondering whether Lucien had simply invented an excuse to fool him. A seer? Prophecy?
On the other hand, when Lucien said he could prophesy and see the future, Phineas wanted to believe him.
Lucien was already astonishingly